Chapter 12
SHANE LEANED BACK in his chair, feet up on his desk, tossing a crumpled piece of paper up in the air. He caught it and then repeated the motion, doing his best to rid his mind of that fantastic kiss. He wasn’t in high school anymore, yet he couldn’t seem to keep his hands or lips to himself.
Jones sat his desk, directly across from Shane. Kara was using the desk on the right side of Shane, and Foster sat on the edge of that desk. The bullpen was on the quiet side for a Friday afternoon.
“It doesn’t look that similar,” Shane said, comparing the markings on Emily’s body to that of the church symbol of the pastor in Kentucky. “I mean, parts of it do, but not the whole thing. Honestly, it looks more like the tat from that case in Syracuse.”
“That kid as a solid alibi,” Foster said. “For both murders.”
“Look at this.” Kara shoved another piece of paper under Shane’s nose. “That’s from the pastor’s previous church. It looks just like a butterfly with a very long midsection and short wings.” Kara tapped the paper. “And these two oval things in the middle look like the incisions in Gregory’s back.”
“The killer used a black sharpie on Emily’s body, and the M.E. found traces of a green one on Gregory. Could mean something,” Jones said.
“Other than placement around the body, the candles used in each crime scene were different.” Shane tossed Jones the crumpled paper. Jones immediately tossed it back.
Kara rolled her eyes.
“See, he doesn’t need to be warned,” Shane said.
“Let’s get back to the case, shall we?” Kara said.
“The M.E. says the killer is left-handed on both murders,” Jones said. “Also says that the incisions made on the body were done with precision, as if the killer knew what he was doing.” Jones swiveled his chair in a complete rotation before tossing the paper back to Shane.
“Does the pastor have any medical training?” Shane asked.
“Not that we know of,” Kara said. “But our reports show he’s left-handed, so there’s that.”
“What about that case where some poor bastard had his intestines cut out?” Foster said. “Any leads on that one?”
“Not a one, but it’s probably the closest we have to a similar case,” Kara said. “If we have a serial killer, they have to start somewhere. Perfect their technique.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit premature?” Foster asked. “I know our time is limited, and our team leader might pull us at any moment since we’re not officially here, but we shouldn’t be tossing that word around.”
Shane didn’t like the idea that Kara could be pulled at any time. The thought threw him so much that he missed the paper Jones had tossed, and it landed on the top of his head with a soft thud. He expected a snide retort from Kara about the paper, but all he got was a frown.
“Were we able to put Emily, Doug, and Gregory at the museum at the same time?” Shane asked, focusing his energy on the case.
“Yes.” Foster lifted his tablet and started tapping away on it. “But why are we even looking at Doug? He’s got an airtight alibi.”
Shane picked up the paper and tossed it to back to Jones. “Because he was sleeping with Emily,” he said. “And I talked with Cleary about why he lied about knowing him, and he said he hadn’t recognized the kid’s name, and that once he told the boy and his parents Emily’s age, Doug stopped coming around.”
“You buy that?” Foster asked.
“I think he’s been in a drunken haze since the day she was murdered,” Shane said as he caught the crumpled paper. “I also think he doesn’t want people to know his daughter was rebelling sexually, since we know she was sexting with other boys.”
“Did you tell him what we found in her journals?” Kara asked.
Shane reached up in the air, grabbing the poorly-tossed paper. “Not yet. I want the analyst to finish with it, then we can give them back and let him read it for himself.”
“Do you two do that all the time?” Foster asked. “It’s annoying.”
“Your fingers tapping loudly on the computer is annoying,” Kara said. “You can turn the clicking noise off.”
“I like to annoy you,” Foster said. “Based on time cards, I’ve found five different occasions when Gregory was working in the museum at the same time Emily and Doug were taking classes.”
“Anything on matching Emily’s phone records with Gregory’s?” Shane asked.
“Couldn’t find a single call between the two of them,” Jones said.
“I think we should go back and talk with Doug,” Shane said. “Looking at Emily’s photo history, she had quite a collection of naked pictures of herself. Not to mention images of male genitalia we don’t know the origins of.”
“What do you think Doug’s going to give us?” Kara asked.
“I don’t know, but I think he could provide some insight into her life.”
“His parents aren’t going to let us in,” Jones said.
Shane snagged the wad of paper. “Catch.” He tossed it at Kara, who barely glanced up and seized the ball with her right hand. “Impressive. Thought you might have lost those reflexes. Now toss it back.”
Instead, she tossed it to Jones.
“All right. Let’s go back and talk with Doug,” she said. “It can’t hurt.”
Shane watched them toss it back and forth, and for some godforsaken reason he felt a pang of jealousy.
“What about Haughton?” Kara asked, as she continued to toss the paper to Jones.
“He’s left-handed,” Shane said as he glanced between Jones and Kara, frustration building in his gut. “He’s got motive, but why would he wait so long to kill Emily?”
“Maybe he wanted to wait until she was closer to his daughter’s age?” Jones asked, but it was more of a hypothesis.
Kara quickly tossed the ball to Jones and then flipped her laptop around, placing it on the center of the table. “Our analyst just sent this over. It seems that Gregory has a second cousin who went to the same school as Haughton’s daughter and Rodney, the kid who raped her. Gregory’s cousin’s name is Barb Esters, and she was interviewed by a local news crew when Haughton’s daughter killed herself.”
“Interesting.” Shane pulled the laptop closer. The browser was stuck on a link to a news channel YouTube video. Shane clicked the play button.
“It’s terrible what happened,” Barb Ester said into the newscaster’s microphone. “I didn’t know her well, but we all mourn her loss and pray for her family.”
“I remember a slew of interviews from different girls who went to school with the Haughton girl.” Jones quickly rolled his seat to his desk and started to pound on his keyboard. “Here we go.”
“What do you have?” Kara asked.
“Looking up the old case files on Rodney. After he raped Lisa, other girls came forward with claims he’d harassed them. A couple even said he’d raped them as well. But none of them filed charges. Half of them recanted later. There was one girl who…” Jones tapped his computer screen. “…yeah, that’s her.”
“Who what?” Shane asked.
“Barb was Rodney’s girlfriend.” Jones continued to pound away on the keyboard. “She gave a statement when Lisa accused Rodney of the rape. Barb was his alibi. Swore he would never hurt anyone. That he was this great boyfriend. She had a bruise on her left eye during that interview. I’m sending the reports now.”
“How the hell do you remember that? We had barely been made detective, and that wasn’t our case.”
“Gregory’s mother’s maiden name was Esters. I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to remember why it sounded familiar.” Jones picked the paper up and started tossing it with Kara, leaving Shane out of the loop again.
Shane stood up and snagged the paper midair.
“Jealous much,” Kara retorted.
“Sure am, when you cheat on me with a Fed.” Shane put the paper in his top drawer, then glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late.”
“I think we should interview Esters today,” Jones said.
“Good idea,” Foster added. “But you and Shane are going to have to do it. Kara and I have a conference call with our team. We can regroup tomorrow.”
Shane was about to suggest that he could wait for their call to be over, so he and Kara could do it, but then thought better of it.
* * *
Shane settled into the driver’s seat and headed toward Alexander Street. The last known address for Barb Esters was a side street that ran between Alexander and South Union.
“So, what’s going on with you and Kara?” Jones asked. “I thought you were getting along, and now you’re acting like an immature teenager.”
“We have a lot of history, and some of it is resurfacing.”
“This has nothing to do with your past,” Jones said. “What’s going on right now? Something happened in the last twenty-four hours between the two of you.”
“It’s complicated,” Shane said. “I need to talk to her, in private, and put a lid on this, I just haven’t had the chance.”
“It’s always complicated with women. In my experience—”
Shane laughed. “Really funny coming from a guy who has serious commitment issues.” He stopped at the light at the corner of Alexander and East Avenue. “I’m not taking advice from a guy who has never had a serious relationship.”
“I’m single because I haven’t met anyone I’m willing to risk feeling like a schmuck for.”
“That’s funny, because I heard a rumor a woman was spending a lot of time at your place.”
“I’m single, not dead.”
“I heard this woman has been living with you.”
“Has the office turned into a bunch of gossips?” Jones shook his head. “I have sex. With a woman. Who is staying at my house. Temporarily, while her new apartment is being painted.”
“At least you’re having sex,” Shane said. “I can’t remember the last time I had sex.”
“I bet you remember the last time you had sex with Ka—”
“Two days before she left me,” Shane said. “Not that it’s any of your business.” He brought the car to a stop in front of a house that leaned a little too far to the left. The white paint on the siding had peeled so badly it showed the rotten wood. “Barb’s apartment is upstairs.”
Dogs barked from across the street. Jones looked around the side, while Shane checked out the porch area then rang the bell. They waited three minutes for a young woman with a small child to come down the stairs. “I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling.”
“Barb Esters?” Shane asked.
“Depends on who’s asking.”
Jones pulled out his badge. “Detective Jones. This is my partner, Detective Rogers. We want to ask you a few questions about John Rodney.”
“Why?” She gave them a puzzled look, before telling her daughter to run upstairs and watch television. “He’s still in prison, right?”
“Yes,” Jones said.
“Good. I hope the bastard rots there. Now, what do you want with me?”
“Is Gregory Donegan your cousin?”
“Second cousin. Poor bastard. Heard he got killed or something. But what does that have to do with me or my loser ex?”
“You didn’t think he was a loser when you gave a statement to the police when he was accused of rape.” Shane flipped open his notebook. Not sure where this was going to lead them, so he jotted down a few more questions.
“Yeah, because the bastard hit me, and I was pregnant and scared. I’d say anything back then to protect him, because he was constantly threatening me, but then I wised up. Me and my kid are better off without that fucking bastard.”
The woman certainly liked the word bastard. “You mentioned in an interview that you didn’t know Lisa Haughton well. Is that true?”
“Well, sort of,” Barb said. “Lisa was one of those privileged chicks who liked to slum it. She had a reputation of being easy and liked bad boys. Everyone knew it. Not a guy who didn’t want a piece of that ass. I was jealous. But after I knew my loser boyfriend had really raped that poor girl, I turned on him. I even offered to testify against him, but he took another plea, so I was off the hook.”
Shane noted he wanted to ask Cleary about Barb and her willingness to testify.
“Did your cousin, Gregory—”
Barb interrupted Jones. “My second cousin, and one that I don’t know and probably haven’t seen since I was two.”
“Sorry,” Jones continued. “Did your second cousin, Gregory, know John Rodney? Were they friends back in the day?”
Barb laughed. “I doubt they ever met. Hell, I didn’t even know Gregory was living in Rochester until I saw on the news he’d been murdered.” Her smile turned to a frown quickly. “Do I need to be worried? Is someone going to come after me?”
“I don’t think so, but it doesn’t hurt to be diligent in your safety,” Shane said. “We’re trying to get a feel for Gregory’s life. Thought you might be able to help.”
“Sorry. I can’t help you with that.” She glanced over her shoulder. “If there isn’t anything else, I’ve got to get back to my kid.”
“Have you ever met this girl?” Jones held out a picture of Emily Cleary.
“Never met her, but she’s all over the news. Why? Do I need to be worried for my kid? What’s really going on here?”
“Again, I don’t think so, but I’d keep an eye out. If you notice anything suspicious, call 9-1-1,” Shane said, handing her his card. “You can call me as well.”
“I remember her father,” Barb said. “He took my deposition; I think that’s what it’s called. I told him everything I could about that shithead, Rodney, but in the end, they didn’t need me to testify, since Rodney took a deal. Jerk should have gone away for life.”
“Did you cut a deal of some kind with Cleary?”
She shook her head. “I was happy to tell him about every rotten thing Rodney was into. I was clean. Other than covering up for him in the beginning. You’re sure Rodney ain’t out? Because if he is, I do have reason to worry.”
“He’s still in prison,” Jones said.
“What about this kid?” Jones held out a picture of Doug. “Do you know him?”
She reached out and touched the picture, making a face as she studied it. “No. Not that I remember.”
“Let us know if you think of anything that might help us.”
“Okay.”
“Keep your doors locked and don’t hesitate to call.” Shane checked his watch. “Let’s go talk to Doug before we call it a night.”
* * *
Shane shoved his phone into his pocket after texting Kara about their decision to interview Doug again, but also to ask her to stop by the house. He hadn’t heard back from her yet.
He rang the bell, then put his hands on his hips, looking around the neighborhood. Both Doug and Emily lived walking distance to the Village of Pittsford. Lots of places to meet around the four corners. Sometimes he and Kara would meet down by the canal at the park. Or in the parking lot of Hilllard’s Bar and Grill. Sometimes behind the teen center or even the train tracks. So many places.
Mrs. McCauley answered the door. She frowned the moment she laid eyes on Shane.
“Sorry to bother you,” Shane started. “We’d like to talk to Doug again.”
“Do I need a lawyer?” She kept the door close to her face.
“That’s entirely up to you,” Jones said. “We’re just trying to find out what happened to Emily.”
“My son didn’t do anything wrong.”
Shane wanted to remind the woman that, actually, her son had done something very wrong if he’d had sex with Emily, but refrained. “We need to gain insight into Emily’s life, and since she was friends with your son at one point he might help guide us in the right direction. He might know something he doesn’t realize could help us find her killer.”
“Alright,” she said. “Doug is in his room. I’ll go get him.”
“Can we talk to him there?”
“Why?”
“He might feel more comfortable there,” Jones said. “His own space. Surrounded by his own things.”
Shane and Jones followed Mrs. McCauley up a flight of stairs. The carpet was worn to the point it needed replacing. The wallpaper was dated back to the seventies. Vintage frames filled with family portraits lined the hallway.
She tapped on the door at the top of the stairs. “Doug? The detectives need to talk to you again.” She pushed open the door. Doug sat at his desk, on his computer. He quickly slammed it shut and turned. “What?”
“Mind if we talk alone?” Jones asked.
“I’m staying,” Mrs. McCauley said. “This is my house.”
Doug’s room was a typical teenage boy’s room. Clothes on the floor. A couple of posters from the hit show Breaking Bad and one from the show The Big Bang Theory.
“What do you want to know now?” Doug asked.
“Did you know this gentleman from the museum when you and Emily took some classes there?” Jones held out picture of Gregory.
“I don’t think so,” Doug said.
“Are you sure? Take a good look.” Jones continued to hold up the picture. “Take it.”
Doug looked between Jones and his mother, who was now standing next to her son. “I don’t know him. Why? Did he kill Emily?”
“We don’t think so,” Shane said. “And, unfortunately, he died recently.”
“That’s horrible,” Mrs. McCauley said.
“What about you, Mrs. McCauley? Does this man look familiar to you? He worked part-time at the museum.”
“I supposed I could have seen him there,” she said. “But I don’t recall.”
“Doug, did Emily have any other boyfriends before you? Or anyone who was jealous of your friendship with her?” Shane asked.
Doug shook his head. “I have no idea. We didn’t talk about stuff like that.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Stuff,” Doug said.
Jones had stuffed his hands into his pockets and was looking around the room.
“Sex stuff?” Shane asked.
“I don’t like this line of questioning,” Mrs. McCauley said.
“I didn’t want to do this in front you,” Shane admitted. “I could ask him to come down to the station for an interview. You can get a lawyer, but that isn’t going to help us find Emily’s killer and that’s our top priority. It would be helpful if we had a moment alone with Doug.”
She pursed her lips. “Five minutes.” She grabbed her son’s arm and whispered something in his ear. Shane craned his head, but all he got was a muffled sound. He figured Doug’s parents knew there had been an inappropriate relationship and were doing their best to protect him.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Shane pointed to the chair across the room, in front of a messy desk.
“I’ll stand,” Doug said in a confident voice, but his shifting body and the constant movement of his hands, showed a nervous young man.
“We know there were pictures and a lot of sexting going on between you and Emily,” Jones said.
“I didn’t have sex with her.”
“Did you know she was doing the same thing with other boys?” Shane asked.
Doug glanced to the floor, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. I guess so.” He looked up. “I didn’t know she was fourteen. Really. She told me she was seventeen.”
“You believed that?” Shane asked.
Doug shrugged.
“Do you know any of the other boys? Any of them have a reason to hurt her?”
“I don’t know who else she was texting,” Doug said. “All the kids do it.”
“You sext with other girls?” Jones asked.
“I have,” Doug said. “But it’s not illegal or anything.”
“There are laws about protecting minors and sending and receiving naked images,” Shane said.
“I didn’t do anything with the pictures. I can’t control what she sent me.”
“Can we see your phone?”
Doug shook his head. “Come on, man. I got private stuff on there that has nothing to do with Emily.”
“But you might have a number we can trace back to Emily’s phone that could help us find her killer.”
“My father is going to kill me,” Doug said as he turned to his desk, opening his top drawer and pulling out his phone. “I’m only doing this because Emily was my friend. When will I get it back?”
“Might want to get a new one.” Shane carefully took the phone just as Mrs. McCauley stepped back into the room.
“Doug! What are you doing? Don’t give them that.”
“Jesus, Mom,” Doug said. “She was my friend and she’s been murdered. If something on my phone can help, then, well…I should let them look at it.”
“We’re not out to get your son,” Shane said. “We’re only trying to find out who killed Emily.”
“Since he’s eighteen, I guess I can’t force him to take it back,” she said with a deflated tone.
“I’m afraid not,” Shane said.
* * *
“You didn’t have to meet me here,” Kara said as Shane stepped from his vehicle in the driveway of Congressman Cleary’s house. “I know you want to be home with your son.”
“Turns out my niece is way cooler than the old man,” Shane said. “Besides, I didn’t want you to do this alone.”
She smiled. “Chivalry at its best.”
He chuckled.
“It has to be hard on your son when a case like this comes your way.”
“I was working a double homicide when he was first diagnosed. I didn’t pass it off, and it spurred many fights with Janet.”
“There are other roles than active homicide.” Kara knew it wasn’t her place, but she really wanted to understand his relationship with his late wife. Might help her understand their rekindled feelings.
“I didn’t want to face Kevin’s illness, but a month into his treatments I realized I wasn’t doing anyone any favors.”
“You’re a good father,” Kara said, noting Cleary had stepped out onto his front porch. By the scowl on his face he was none too happy to see them. “Ready to get our heads taken off?”
“I’m always ready.”
They approached the front porch until they were face to face with Cleary.
“This is getting ridiculous!” Cleary barked.
“Your frustration is understandable.” Kara stepped into the marble foyer.
“I doubt you understand anything,” Cleary said.
“We want to talk to you about Barb Ester. She was John—”
Cleary cut Kara off. “I’m well aware of who she was. A key witness in our case against Rodney, the boy who raped Lisa Haughton.”
“You resigned from the D.A.’s office a few weeks before Lisa killed herself.”
“One day after Rodney took the second plea,” Cleary said, not offering to move to the family room or living room. Instead, he kept one hand on the door, ready to kick them to the curb. “I know the timeline.”
“How did you come to the plea offer?” Shane asked.
“We had him on multiple crimes. I offered the public defender two lighter sentences versus taking him to trial for rape, which we had rock solid. The key to the deal was he couldn’t serve the sentences consecutively. So, he got fifteen years. Probably longer than if we’d gone to trial, which I didn’t want to put Lisa Haughton through. She was a weak witness and the defense would have reduced her to rubble. Also, and no offense to the Rochester PD, but there were some issues with evidence collection. I didn’t want to take a chance that Rodney would walk.”
“Did Barb give you information that helped with making that offer?” Shane asked.
“She did.” Cleary still had a death grip on the door. “Without her we couldn’t have pushed him to take the deal.”
“You cut her a deal as well?” Shane asked.
“She didn’t do anything worth cutting a deal. Once he took the plea, she was no longer needed.”
“Why wasn’t any of this in the report?” Kara had read and reread the arrest report and the plea bargain for John Rodney, but there were no notes of this side deal and negotiations.
“It was my last case. I wanted it wrapped up before I left. The guy is in prison. I did my job. As far as the first offense,” Cleary said, “you both know any other D.A. would have offered that kid a plea. Hell, most cops would have talked the parents into not filing charges or pursuing anything other than a restraining order. The kid had no priors. It was that simple.”
“Do you know this man?” Kara showed him a picture of Gregory Donegan.
“Should I?” He held it in his hands, examining it closely. “I don’t recognize him. Does he know something about what happened?”
“No,” Shane said. “He was murdered.”
“You think this is related to my daughter’s murder?” Cleary pulled the picture closer, then stretched his arm out, obviously needing cheaters to see better.
“We don’t know yet,” Kara said.
“How did he die?”
“Strangulation,” Shane said. “He was related to Barb Esters. Thought maybe he was involved with Rodney somehow, trying to link it all back to Haughton.”
“I’ve felt bad about Haughton’s daughter for a very long time,” Cleary said. “But hindsight is 20/20 and I still think that man killed my daughter. He hasn’t been right since his daughter killed herself. I actually understand that.”
“We have a sensitive topic we need to discuss.” Kara held out the papers and notebooks they’d taken from the house.
“What are those?” Cleary took the bundle, but didn’t open them. Just stared at them.
“Your daughter’s journals,” Shane said.
“The ones you took?”
Kara nodded. “There’s a lot of graphic sexual details about her relationship with Doug McCauley.”
“Excuse me?” Clear said behind gritted teeth. “My daughter was fourteen.”
“I’m sorry, Congressman,” Kara said. “But your daughter was sexting and sending inappropriate images to more than one boy.”
“You little bit—”
“That’s uncalled for,” Shane said. “We’re on your side, but Emily was meeting and texting with this boy. And her journal talks about some very sexually explicit—”
“Don’t you dare talk about my daughter that way! What the fuck do you know?”
“We know that your daughter was murdered,” Shane said. “I know this is hard to hear—”
“You’re lying.”
Shane pointed to the journals. “I wish we were. Please look at these. Read them. Only one boy is named, but she talks about others. Any little thing you can think of may help us catch this bastard.”
“You made copies of these?” Cleary looked at Kara with disgust and anguish. His bloodshot eyes glared at her with disdain.
Kara nodded.
“I don’t want this getting out,” Cleary muttered. “My little girl was murdered. I can’t have…” he sniffled, “…her memory tainted like this. It would destroy her mother.”
“We would never consider releasing the journals,” Shane said. “But we will do what it takes to bring the killer to justice.”
“Haven’t you done enough damage?” Cleary asked sarcastically. “You basically forced me to tell my wife about my affair with Heather.”
“We did no such thing,” Shane said.
“Right.” Cleary’s tone was dark and ominous. “Thanks to you I may have lost my wife as well.”
Kara decided to ignore the statements. It wouldn’t do any good to go at it with Cleary at this point. “We need to ask that you not contact the boy or his family. You need to let us handle this.”
“I won’t promise anything,” Cleary said. “Anything else?”
“Not right now,” Kara said.
“I need to get back to my family.”
“We appreciate your time,” Kara said. “We’ll be in touch.”
Cleary opened the door. No sooner did Kara cross the threshold than Cleary slammed the door.
“He is so not going to like what he reads in those,” Shane said. “How old were we when we delved past just kissing?”
“Fourteen,” she said. “And it’s really not the time to discuss that.”
“I’m just thinking.” He leaned against the door of her SUV. “Did your parents know? Have any kind of clue what we were doing? My parents lectured me all the time about how to treat a lady, respect and all that. If I had a dollar for every time during our relationships that my parents brought up STDs, condoms, pregnancy, and every other thing related to sex, I’d be a billionaire. Hell, I was terrified to touch you.”
“Not that terrified, because you did, but to answer the question, my parents talked to me about sex. They certainly weren’t blind, or naïve, but they weren’t as open as yours.”
“You think the Cleary’s ever talked to their daughter about that stuff?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I got the impression he could have been aware, but in denial.”
“Which is why I don’t understand why he didn’t tell us about Doug during that first interview. I would think if it were my kid, I’d be sucking up my pride and telling all.”
“I hate to point out the double standard,” Kara said, “but you’re a boy. My parents didn’t want to accept their little girl was growing up. They certainly didn’t want to know if, and when I had sex, especially my father, who every time my mother decided it was time to rehash the sex talk and made him join us, turned fifty shades of red. He’d end the conversation with, ‘I know you’re a good girl,’ even after we went to college and they showed up and found you half-dressed in my dorm room.”
“I hadn’t thought about those differences,” he said. “My parents knew you spent the night. My father even gave me a box of condoms my senior year. Even talking with Kevin, I’m fairly open. He’s not even close to hitting puberty, but he texts with some girl from school all the time. He’s only been back a couple of days. I have to take his phone away sometimes and have a stern talk with him, but secretly I’m thinking ‘that’s my boy’.”
She laughed. “You’re a good father.”
“I don’t often feel like I am. But I’m doing my best.” Shane bent over and kissed her cheek. “Drive safe.”
“Sleep well.”
“I will if you join me in my dreams.”